


A T-cog a day

by Vanamiya



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, One Shot Collection, chapters will have warnings at the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanamiya/pseuds/Vanamiya
Summary: ...makes the doctor stay.A collection of unrelated Tarnma one shots, ficlets and scraps. Some are sfw, some are nsfw. Please read the warnings at the beginning of each chapter.





	1. Heat Cycle (NSFW, Dubcon)

**Author's Note:**

> See, the thing is, there are so many fics I start writing but never develop into something big enough to be posted as its own fic (in my opinion). Stuff that ends suddenly with me knowing that I will probably never continue it. And this is the place for that kind of stuff, at least when it's Tarnma related. This ship ate me I swear.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: heat cycles and consent issues related to that sort of thing, please stay safe
> 
> Summary: Pharma's heat cycle is very strong and very sudden

It happened during a T-cog exchange. Tarn was busy counting and inspecting the goods while Pharma stood off to the side, as far away as he dared because he wanted to keep up the illusion of being able to flee while also knowing Tarn didn't like it when he put too much of a distance between them.  
  
First, Pharma's temperature rose at an abnormal rate, especially considering that they were outside in the snow. When his fans kicked on, he already had a bad feeling about this. He waited impatiently for Tarn to be finished so he could go before any worse symptoms appeared. Tarn however, sadist that he was, took his sweet time inspecting every single cog in great detail.  
  
“Tarn, you know that I need to return to my patients as soon as possible.” Of course the tank wouldn't listen to him, he never did, but Pharma was pretty much out of other options except praying to Primus in hopes of being spared of this embarrassment.  
  
His fans got louder and if Tarn hadn't noticed it before – which was unlikely – he certainly did now. His attention was temporarily averted from his supply of T-cogs and he gave Pharma a look that could only be interpreted as an inquiry.  
  
After the fans came the start of the protocols. Pharma bit his bottom lip and pressed his legs together. He could feel it now. The first trickle of lubricants accumulating inside his valve while the need for interface rose. Not long now and he would be reduced to nothing but a wanton mess. That was, if he didn't somehow get to his own lab beforehand where he stored his remedies.  
  
“Pharma, your field is rather... and your scent...”  
  
“Yes,” Pharma hissed, cutting Tarn off before he could make even more comments on his current state. “My heat cycle is rather irregular. It started sooner than I anticipated. Now if you would let me go already so I can take care-”  
  
Pharma didn't manage to finish his sentence as his arm was suddenly pulled and he found himself flush against a broad chassis. One nano-klik later, Tarn pressed his mask against Pharma's neck, no doubt taking in the pheromones Pharma's frame was already emitting.  
  
“It's potent. You fliers have such strong heat cycles, it's captivating but it almost makes one pity you,” Tarn purred, causing a shudder to run down Pharma's spinal strut. It was already hard not to throw his arms around Tarn and grind against him like a two-shanix-whore.  
  
“Mine is... exceptional.”  
  
Tarn chuckled. “Oh? Like everything about you is exceptional?”  
  
Big strong servos started touching him, groping at his plating while Tarn kept his mask pressed against Pharma's neck, most likely getting riled up by the rising amount of heat cycle coding emanating off the jet's frame. Tarn had touched him before though they hadn't interfaced yet, even if the leader of the DJD had made his intention very clear. Pharma knew that it was inevitable. Their arrangement had not been going on for too long yet and if it was to continue without incident, listening to any and every of Tarn's whims would surely soon be part of it.  
  
“You don't understand, that's not what I meant! My cycles are terribly irregular and too strong. I need to... return to Delphi to take my suppressants... Tarn, let go of me.”  
  
He did his best to keep a clear head, he really did. But the protocols were already running and his hips started moving on their own, desperate for friction, any kind of attention. Did he really want to let Tarn take him like this, when he wouldn't even have enough presence of mind to protest anything Tarn could do to him?  
  
A servo found its way between his legs, brushing over Pharma's panel. It was enough to set his sensors aflame as a wave of pleasure beckoned him to get more of this sensation. He pressed his pelvis against the servo before he even realized that he was doing it.  
  
“I think I know a much better way to take care of your little... predicament, doctor.”  
  


* * *

  
“ARRGH why did Tarn have to bring that medic with him?! Now the whole ship stinks of heat pheromones and if I don't get to frag someone soon I might as well melt down my own helm.”  
  
Helex threw a data pad against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces and Kaon frowned at the sound.  
  
“Helex. We needed that. But I agree. I suppose Tarn was too captivated to realize that it was a bad idea?” He turned his attention towards the pet that was currently whining at him, undoubtedly affected too. “Down, boy, everything is alright.”  
  
“How strong is that stupid flier's heat even?! We're as far away from Tarn's quarters as physically possible and I can STILL smell it! The least he could do if he forces us to endure this is share.”  
  
It was needless to say that they were all a bit riled up from the waves of heat coding that the Autobot jet currently gave off. Helex could feel his smelter boiling. Tesarus' blades rotated uncomfortably, there were electric charges dancing over Kaon's frame and Vos... was in the corner, mumbling ominous phrases in primal vernacular and... taking care of his problem, apparently. Well then.  
  


* * *

  
Pharma didn't know how much time had passed or the amount of overloads he had had. All he knew was that he never wanted to feel anything again that wasn't Tarn's thick spike stretching him to his limits. He moaned and angled his hips so Tarn could thrust even deeper, fill him until there was no space left. Huge amounts of lubricant gushed out of his valve and stained the berth beneath them.  
  
“Tarn, please, harder,” he begged and Tarn complied, picking up his pace and making Pharma's fans stutter.  
  
“Yes. Yes! Like that, I-” He came again with unrestrained moan, Tarn's name falling from his lips like a prayer.  
  
Tarn couldn't stop. Everything about Pharma, his scent, his voice, that beautiful face and that tight valve, it all pushed him to continue, to never stop fragging him.  
  
Tarn had wanted to claim that pretty jet ever since he had seen him for the very first time. He wanted to taint him, turn him into something so twisted Pharma wouldn't recognize himself if he looked into the mirror. He wanted to own him, make him fall apart. He wanted to be in Pharma's thoughts when he fell into recharge and also when he awoke again.  
  
It would only have been a matter of time. A matter of Tarn's ability to keep himself in check. Now the decision was made for him, thanks to Pharma's heat cycle.  
  
And what an intense cycle it was. Pharma hadn't exaggerated when he had called it exceptional. The air was so thick one would be able to cut it with a knife and all Pharma seemed to care about right now was the next overload. Tarn let the waves of heat coding wash over him, deciding to turn this into a challenge of sorts: how long would he be able to keep going before running out of stamina? How many times would he be able to make Pharma overload?  
  
Pharma was still riding on the tail of the last overload but he was already demanding more friction again. Tarn slowed his pace down a bit just to tease him a little and make him beg some more. Tarn had to admit he loved it when Pharma begged.


	2. Unplanned discovery (rated M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: unwanted pregnancy and an attempt to "resolve" that "issue" (nothing of that sort actually happens though), please stay safe
> 
> Summary: Poor Pharma. Out of all mechs it HAD to be Tarn who turned out to be perfect for creating sparklings with him.

Pharma stared.  
  
Pharma stared some more.  
  
The result, however, did not change.  
  
He had known before, really. The signs had all been there. The increased appetite. The increased libido. He would awaken in the middle of the night with quivering legs and a sticky berth, longing, and no amount of self service could replace what he truly needed.  
  
After a few cycles of simply enduring and ignoring the issue, he knew he needed to know for sure. Problems that weren't addressed as soon as possible tended to grow and in this case, it literally would.  
  
The letters on his scanner glared at him, showing nothing but cold, hard, irrefutable truth.  
  
He was carrying.  
  
A long time ago he had wanted offspring. Back when he had been together with Ratchet. It could have been perfect, a beautiful family of doctors. After it hadn't worked the first few times, they had investigated the cause and found out that Pharma was all but infertile. His basecode was highly specific and it wouldn't mix with anything but 95% or above compatibility. Ratchet was 80%. High, usually more than enough for strong, healthy sparklings, but because of this, neither carrying nor siring a sparkling was a possibility. Before they had had the time to figure something out, they had drifted apart.  
  
And now... it seemed like a miracle. Usually, Pharma would have been almost ecstatic with excitement. A sire with a compatibility of 95% or greater? That was worthy of investigation. Or it would be. Because he knew who it was and the thought filled Pharma with nothing but dread and discomfort.  
  
It was Tarn. Those sparklings growing inside of him were his. How had that happened? How had Tarn of all mechs managed this? There was no way a tank's coding mixed more smoothly with Pharma's medijet coding than another medical vehicle would. Yet here he was and the scanner didn't lie.  
  
The only question was: what should he do now? He could not tell Tarn. Who knew what that unpredictable nutcase would do with him if he ever found out. Pharma had received all sorts of weird punishments for way less. He also couldn't tell his staff. Not without risking them finding out who the sire was.  
  
Pharma looked down at his gestation chamber. He had wanted sparklings and now that he had them he had to get rid of them. It needed to be quick and discreet without anyone noticing. Taking certain medications actually meant for other diseases would do the trick. He knew just what to mix up for this. However, his systems would be at risk of shutting down from the overdose and that would defeat the whole purpose. He would have to do it the old fashioned way, stab himself in the gestation chamber, cause an emergency flush out. Problem solved. Though he already knew that it would be painful and that he would have to repair himself and do it quickly.  
  
Pharma took his biggest and most durable scalpel. The kind you would use to get through thick plating. Aiming, he readied himself, a steady stream of air cycling in his vents. He could do this. He could get rid of this burden. His servos shook. They never shook. Biting his lip, he willed himself to stay still.  
  
“Pharma.”  
  
The surprise caused Pharma to make a noise that could only be described as a screech. The scalpel clattered to the floor and he turned around, spotting Tarn immediately. Not that it was hard to find a tank in a room that was barely enough to accommodate him comfortably.  
  
“Tarn, what are you doing in the closet?”  
  
“That is an excellent question. One I was about to ask you, actually. I had decided to pay you a surprise visit and stumbled upon this... peculiar situation. You, hiding in a supply closet, almost stabbing your abdomen. Were you trying to kill yourself?”  
  
It was hidden but Pharma heard the disapproval anyway. There could not have been a worse moment for Tarn to appear. What was he going to say now? The worst part about this was, his developing carrier instincts already recognized the sire and demanded to get more transfluid. A sudden wave of heat washed over Pharma and he struggled to stay in control of his own frame.  
  
“I-I wasn't...” yes, very eloquent. Now Tarn was sure to grill him for answers.  
  
“Of course you weren't. It wouldn't have been nearly enough to kill you. But that begs the question: what were you trying to do? I already have a bit of a theory.”  
  
Pharma had put the scanner away onto one of the shelves and it was this little, seemingly inconspicuous device that drew Tarn's attention. The energon flowing through Pharma's veins was pure ice while Tarn read the result on the screen. He was strangely calm and that was not always a good sign.  
  
“Ah yes... it's a I thought. You wanted to get rid of the evidence. I cannot believe you would be so cold and not even inform me that I am going to be a sire.”  
  
“I... how? How did you know?”  
  
“Because it's calling me. The urge to claim you, to fill you with transfluid until you can't walk any longer. To create healthy offspring.”  
  
...right. In his haste to take care of this problem he had not stopped to think that this was a thing that happened. Not every sire felt this kind of automatic pull towards the carrier and their sparklings but when the compatibility was high enough, it was possible. A large servo pressed on the plating right beneath his cockpit, rubbing gently. Pharma tensed up but the touches felt relaxing, right. Like this was what it was supposed to be like.  
  
“I didn't expect it. No one was ever compatible enough.”  
  
“Don't you see, Pharma? It's a sign. It's supposed to be like this. You're supposed to be mine.”  
  
Pharma didn't know whether he liked the sound of those words. His processor told him to flee while his basecoding told him to lean in closer, get more contact, interface. Protocols already started running, getting his valve ready for intrusion. Tarn was barely even touching him and he was already oozing lubricant.  
  
“Let's turn them into strong healthy soldiers. But first you need to get out of here. You can't stay at Delphi with my sparklings filling your chamber.”  
  
Tarn sounded joyful, mesmerized even. As if he himself needed to wrap his processor around this development as well but would do so gladly. Pharma had not expected that kind of reaction.  
  
But... wait, he had to leave Delphi?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Tarn makes Pharma join the DJD and they live happily ever after. Or something. Probably not.


	3. Mask (SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: none, this is short and sweet
> 
> Summary: Tarn takes his mask off

Tarn hesitated. His servo lingered on the edge of his mask, ready to unlatch it but not yet quite going for it. Pharma was in front of him, watching, waiting. He was silent which was good. Words were not what Tarn was looking for right now. He found what he was looking for in Pharma's EM field, that fluctuated with interest and curiosity, excitement and nervousness. Tarn coiled his own tighter around him, doing his best to conceal it while Pharma's was like a beacon of raw emotional energy.  
  
That was on purpose, of course. Pharma wanted Tarn to know exactly what he was feeling. He knew that this was a step that went beyond interfacing, beyond the nagging scratch of feelings as they burrowed into the spark, beyond strange sudden urges for displays of affection and their somewhat awkward reactions. It was about showing Pharma something that Tarn wanted to hide from the whole universe, perhaps even himself. And yet... it also was not. Because as far as he was concerned, Tarn did not exist behind the mask. The mask was who he was. But it did get in the way of proper kisses.  
  
Pharma would not betray him. He would die before he got the chance. Not that he even had anything besides him now, besides the DJD. It was not the possibility of Pharma taking the knowledge and running that made him nervous. It also wasn't showing who he was. It was... Pharma's reaction.  
  
Pharma was so open now, so exposed. EM field flaring wide, pulsing, caressing. As soon as he saw, his field would give a more honest reaction than his words ever could. And there were many possible reactions that Tarn did not look forward to. Disgust. Disappointment. Pity. The thing that should perhaps concern him the least – Pharma's opinion of his physical features – was what made him hesitate the most.  
  
To his credit, Pharma was patient. If it was due to his own nerves or because he somehow still sensed what Tarn was feeling was unclear. Tarn blew a stream of hot air through his vents in hopes that this action would calm him. What was the worst thing that could happen?  
  
Would it be disgust? No, he could simply put his mask back on. Pharma would never have to see it again and he could blindfold his dear doctor for kisses, just like he had done many times before.  
  
Would it be disappointment? No. Perhaps disappointment would even make him laugh. After all, what would Pharma have to expect to be disappointed by this? And like before, the mask would simply return to its rightful place and the status quo would be restored.  
  
Pity. It was pity he wanted the least. Pity made no sense because there was nothing to pity here. But Pharma was an Autobot, or rather, he used to be. They rarely made sense and they had mastered the art of pity like none before them. Then again, Pharma wasn't what one would call a model Autobot, now was he?  
  
Tarn decided that this situation slowly transformed from just uncomfortable to plain ridiculous which meant he needed to get this over with now. As long as he kept a neutral expression, as long as he didn't let any of his real feelings slip, it should be fine. The mask came off.  
  
Pharma's optics widened. They stared, erratic movements following the patterns of the scars. No word made it past Pharma's lips and his field stayed strangely quiet, too. Only a whisper of interest was left as he stared at Tarn's exposed features. Soon, a touch of desire intermingled. It became bigger and bigger and before it could spill over, Pharma reached out. He hesitated, much like Tarn had before, but he was much quicker to overcome the very last doubts. Tarn closed his optics as Pharma's fingers traced the lines on his face. The scarred tissue tingled beneath the touch. It felt somewhat strange but not bad, especially because it was Pharma who touched him.  
  
Tarn did not expect the kiss when it came, though really, he should have. Pharma's field was like an unlocked datapad and the sudden surge in desire would have been hint enough, had Tarn not been lost in the feeling of Pharma's curious caresses. Tarn wasted no time responding to the kiss and pulling Pharma closer, as close as was physically possible without denting his plating.  
  
No disgust, no disappointment, no pity. Only a burning want for his lips. This, Tarn could certainly accept. He tried not to think of the warm swell in his spark. That was a problem for another time.


	4. Handy (SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: none that I'm aware of... maybe attaching body parts to yourself that are not your own?
> 
> Summary: Pharma receives new hands from Tarn. Lots of new hands. A whole collection of new hands. (this oneshot was called "morbidly cute" I really liked that description)

Pharma took the freshly modified hand and attached it to his wrist with a firm press. He could feel as the wires connected and the clasps closed, holding the appendage in place and letting him move it as if it were his own. The hand as well as its twin had been a generous gift from his current benefactor. It was funny, really, he had always believed that no pair of hands could ever compare to his own but he never would have guessed that there would come a time where he got the chance to test that for himself.  
  
He looked at the glass cabinets lining the wall of the medbay. Next to solvents and tools was his hand collection. All of them were gifts, gracious donations made by those who had no further use for them. They were medic hands, mostly, since he had not much use for others, and Pharma had modified each pair as well as his wrists to fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, seamlessly and with just a click.  
  
None of them were his hands. Those were gone from where they had gotten cut off and he already knew who had taken them with him. Pharma would find him and he would get them back. Until then, he made use of each pair of spares in a different way, as they all possessed a variety of features and advantages, he had found.  
  
The door opened and in stepped the mech he had to thank for all of this. The hands, his life, his downfall. Tarn prided himself on hating traitors but that seemed to only be the case if they were Decepticons. A hypocrite through and through but Pharma had already known that long before.  
  
He also knew that he needed to be cautious, never let his guard down. Tarn acted like a gentlemech when he was in a good mood but he also had a quick temper when a sore spot was struck and he kept to his silly policies unless he decided to bend the rules for his own benefit.  
  
Tarn eyed him, gaze wandering from his face to his new hands that still looked so foreign on his frame, purple and a bit too thin.  
  
“So, what do you think?”  
  
“You always ask me that.” Pharma started cleaning his tools and putting then away. Now came the fun part of testing the hands, painting them and then looking for a spot to put them. The cabinet was getting a little cramped. “And I always give you the same answer: they are not my hands but I will make use of them.”  
  
“I really don’t get it, you know.” Tarn came closer and there was a small part of Pharma that still jumped at that, still remembered the time on Messatine when he had bent to Tarn’s every will, when he had harvested t-cogs until he had decided that this couldn’t go on forever, that someone would eventually find out, that he needed to do something about this. He had done something about this and look where he had ended. Rescued by the very same Decepticon who had gotten him into this mess.  
  
Now he had decided to let Tarn court him. He had always declined before and Tarn, strangely enough, had not pushed. Now he took whatever the tank offered him, gave him a bit of attention in return. Effectively, he was using him to get what he wanted, which was revenge on Ratchet as well as his own hands back, but it was also a way of securing his own continued existence. Where would he even go once he had reached his goal? He could not go back to the Autobots, he would not go with any other Decepticons and he knew no one else who wasn’t already dead. Tarn seemed to know about Pharma's ulterior motives but didn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. It was as if he liked to let Pharma believe that he had some sort of control here when in fact he had none.  
  
“Are those hands really that important to you? Just because you were forged with them?”  
  
“I told you already-” Pharma looked up and turned to his right too late and found himself face to face with a broad chassis lined by biolights. They were still glowing calmly so Pharma knew he had nothing to fear right now. “The hands of a medic are special. And mine are exceptional. You can’t replace those.”  
  
Tarn hummed, amusement lacing his voice. It reached straight into Pharma's spark making it jolt and reminding him that too much complaining would land him a black mark. Oh how he loathed those. He wasn't even part the DJD for frag's sake. At least not really, not yet. He had no actual interest in becoming a member of this freakshow but he doubted he would be able to stave off Tarn's attempts to turn him into a Decepticon forever.  
  
Thankfully, Tarn seemed to be in more of a mood to tease than to reprimand, so he grabbed Pharma by the hips, lifting him up and setting him onto the workbench he had just been busy cleaning. Great. Pharma made sure to convey through his facial expression that he was not amused in the least by this. Tarn merely continued humming and settled between Pharma's knees, an action hinting at Tarn's ulterior motives, though he seemed to be more interested in Pharma's new hands for the moment. Fingers much larger than his held onto Pharma's wrist and to pulled it right in front of Tarn's mask.  
  
“So? What do these do?”  
  
“I was just about to find out. I have a vague idea based on what I saw when I modified them but...”  
  
Pharma started moving his hand, bending the fingers one by one and trying out different commands to see if they would do anything. It always took a bit for him to get used to a new pair but if he was completely honest with himself, that was what made it interesting.  
  
Tarn watched patiently, optics always wandering between the hand right in front of him and Pharma's face. They were completely drawn however when Pharma's fingers split apart. Each thin digit turned into two, then four. The joints were flexible and the tips thin, able to move individually and spread. Pharma wiggled them, just as fascinated as Tarn seemed.  
  
“They look like they could be useful for working on a console. Among other things.” Pharma reached up to Tarn's neck, thin digits easily fitting into seams and plucking on wires and cables. A pleased rumble emitted from deep within Tarn's chassis and Pharma took it as a cue to continue.  
  
Contrary to what Pharma had anticipated, Tarn was surprisingly pleasant to be with. His frame was warm, sturdy. His manners impeccable when he wanted them to be. His flirtations, while always a little extra and overly poetic, were endearing after you got over the initial embarrassment. And his voice... oh, his voice. Pharma had not known that danger and excitement could be compressed into sound quite like this. It did not matter what Tarn said as long as it echoed in his audio receptors and tingled inside his spark.  
  
Tarn tilted his helm, granting Pharma better access to his neck and the low purr increased in volume. Pharma found himself growing quite fond of that sound. It seemed like his new hands could be put to good use a lot sooner than anticipated.


End file.
